


Moving Along

by lonebugget



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Blood and Violence, Character Death, Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Major character death - Freeform, Mental Breakdown, Metaphors, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Other, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Swearing, Swords & Sorcery, Tattoos, Written for a Class, gordon is a whiny bitch, hazel is an ass sometimes, vera is attached to snog even though she's known him for a month, we love borba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonebugget/pseuds/lonebugget
Summary: "His eyes turned glassy, and she panicked, the smile disappearing rapidly as his breaths became uneven and slow. She tried to cover the wound with her hands, applying pressure, but it was futile. He was too far gone."--------A human, a half-elf, a half-orc, and his dog walk headfirst into a battle they hadn't been expecting. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> //TW 
> 
> Descriptions of Blood/Gore and Major Character Death
> 
> this is something I wrote a while ago for my english class about a DnD LMOP campaign I was doing at the time. I found it at the bottom of my google docs and figured that it would be better here. Plus it's actually finished.

At the foot of a hill, a tanned half-elf grips her longswords, a fearsome scowl present on her face. She stands in an offensive position, pitch-black hair falling from its half-bun, framing her face as she stares down the zombies that stumble toward her. The young woman is muscular, slightly scarred, and wears a long vest that stops at her upper thighs, muted red and beige in its design, sleeves reaching to the tops of her shoulders. A light grey tunic covers the studded leather armor underneath the layers, shirt sleeves reaching just below her elbows. She wears tapered pants that end at her ankle, a darker beige than the vest. Her shoes are brown and laced, thoroughly worn from years of use. A belt binds the ensemble together, adorned with multiple pouches and now-empty sheaths. She clutches a black pearl necklace, and in a split second, rushes forward, cutting and slashing at the undead in front of her. They’re pale grey things, with a rotting smell that could make even the most experienced adventurers gag and turn away. Their eyes are dull and clouded, and thick, black, coagulated blood slides out from their wounds; it’s a ghastly sight to behold. 

“Snog,” the half-elf shouts to her partymate, who’s busy holding off his own group of zombies, “What’s the plan?!”

Snog, the half-orc, thrusts his lance into a line of zombies, skewering them effortlessly. His green skin shines with sweat, and curly brown hair has tumbled from its small ponytail at the top of his head, stopping at his pointed ears. The leather armor he wears sticks slightly to his chest, and his boots are caked in mud and blood. His wolf-dog, Borba, is right alongside him, blood dampening her fur as she claws into the zombies surrounding them.  _ At least he has help,  _ she thinks. 

“Snog no know,” he shouts back, shaking the zombies off his lance. “Snog was not prepared for this! Snog thought friend Vera would have one!”

“Well, I don't have a plan!” 

“Neither does Snog!”

Vera sighed, pushing the zombies back a reasonable distance before lunging back at them. She wasn’t one for plans, but they really needed one. The zombies were enough on their own, but there was that  _ thing _ that was atop the hill that still needed to be dealt with. It took both her and Snog to keep the zombies at bay using their melee weapons, and at this rate, it would take another ten to twenty minutes to clear out the undead they had here. By then, they’d be overwhelmed, or worse, dead. She could use magic, something that she’d just recently picked up on, but it was a long shot. Then again, it was  _ magic.  _

“Snog,” Vera shouted.

“Yes? Do you have plan?” He looked down at her from above the horde of zombies, awaiting her answer. 

She grinned mischievously. “No, but I’ve got an idea! Stand back!”

Once Vera was sure that Snog and Borba were out of her range, she muttered a few arcane words and touched her thumbs together. In a flash of bright light, white-hot fire exploded from her fingertips, burning the surrounding zombies to a crisp. She stood in awe at her fingertips, holding them in front of her face. 

“Did friend Vera’s plan work?” Snog’s head peeks out from his arms. He’s hiding, or at least trying to hide, behind a rock that is much too small for cover at his size. She’d laugh if her ribs weren’t so bruised. 

“Yeah. You and Borba are good, for now at least. We’ve still gotta deal with that  _ thing _ up on the hill. I don't know if I can do that again though, so we’ll need to come up with something else.” Vera rubbed her fingertips, still unsure of her new power. “The new guy really wanted to take that thing all by himself, did he? Stupid move if you ask me.” Snog is just about to answer when they all hear a voice from the hill. 

“Hey, guys! A little help here!” 

The pair look up at the noise, moving up closer to get the source of the voice in full view. A pale white human is engaged in intense combat with the creature _ ,  _ curly brown hair swooshing as he maneuvers, shooting spell after spell at the creature floating above him. His armor has dents, and he looks outnumbered, despite the fact that there is only him and the creature. Snog doesn’t notice the human at first, and stares directly at the beast, scared out of his wits. The human catches the eye of Vera, and, with slight hand gestures, motions for the two to come up on the hill and help him. The half-elf glances over to Snog, who is still staring at the beast in front of them, and elbows him in the side. 

“Snap out of it and get ready to attack,” she whispers. Snog nods his head slightly, and grips his lance tighter, settling into a defensive position. 

Vera didn’t really get a good look at the beast that summoned the zombies she burned. All she had seen so far was a large, looming shadow, so she steered clear of it. She knew she’d have to fight it eventually, and was almost looking forward to showing that new guy, Gordon, that he can’t go off doing things by himself. But one look into his eyes, and she saw something more than relief. She saw fear. Intense, paralyzing fear. Vera thought it odd until she herself looked at the thing.

It was huge, at least ten-feet-by-ten-feet, with a large, central eyeball, glazed over and glassy as if it were dead. The mouth was open, showcasing the sharp rows of teeth, and a smell, like the one from the zombies, spilled out from its mouth. Its cylindrical body was covered in some sort of mold and grime, slime pouring from somewhere. And, if that wasn’t enough, twelve large tendrils were attached to the top of its head, each affixed with their own eye. The beast looked between the three of them and lunged for Vera. Immediately, she braced for the impact with her swords, crossing them in an ‘x’ shape. It knocked her a bit down the hill, but she retorted with a stab to its lower body. The creature screeched out in pain, before lunging back toward her. Before it could reach her, however, Vera watched as Gordon thrust his hands forward, and three, blue, shimmering missiles came crashing into the creature. It howled and doubled back to lunge at the human that hit it instead. Just as it was entering Gordon’s space, Snog reached up with his lance and pierced through its thick skin, attempting to restrain the monster to the ground. Vera watched as he managed to pierce the skin and cause damage, but not enough to bring the thing to the ground. This was working out after all. 

It took a few tries, but the three of them managed to slow it down completely, so hurt that it would only float in the air. They had all taken substantial hits, but Snog seemed to be the one that took the most damage out of everyone. His face was bruised and bloodied, hair tousled and tangled with blood and dust. He was on his last legs. Meanwhile, Gordon looked like he could take a few more hits, but nothing substantial. Vera was sure that she was the only one who could continue fighting with this thing without worrying too badly about her wounds. With a quick look to her party-mates, she ran forward to the creature and took a running jump at its large, central eye. She brought both longswords down its face and eye, carving two slits into the head. Leaping off the face, she landed behind the thing, waiting for the creature to make its move. She expected it to go for Snog, and Vera hoped that it wouldn’t do much damage, and as much as Vera would deny it, she cared for that pacifistic bimbo much more than she’d like to admit. 

After her attack, the creature turned to Snog, focusing all of its power to bring him down. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Gordon backing away from the thing, intense fear returning to his eyes.  _ He better not be leaving Snog alone against that thing _ , she thought, trying to catch the human’s attention as he backed away from the monster, but it was useless. Gordon was already halfway down the hill, getting ready to retreat. Vera moved underneath the monster, trying to move closer to Snog to get his attention, but it was impossible. The half-orc was engaged in fierce combat with the creature and wasn’t moving his eyes off the thing. Vera got ready to move, sheathing one of her swords for mobility and prepared to tackle Snog to move him out of the way of what she thought was going to be a bite attack from the monster. But what was supposed to be the shadow moving over her and lunging into Snog’s space was replaced by a large flash of light, and Vera had to cover her eyes to block the intensity of it. But when she opened her eyes, Snog wasn’t there anymore. Or at least, he wasn’t standing. Instead, he was kneeling and turned his head toward Vera’s spot underneath the monster. The half-elf watched with horror as his breaths turned ragged and broken, chest heaving with each difficult breath. He staggered forward, and she caught him in her arms as he collapsed. Dragging him away from the fray, she checked his body for any wounds that she might be able to heal with a quick patch-up. His entire left side has been blown open, exposing the muscle and some of the internal organs. He was bleeding out rapidly, and there was nothing she could do.

“You know, this isn’t the first time you’ve collapsed in my arms Snog.” Vera sniffled, rapidly trying to blink away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. “If I’d have known any better, I’d be thinking that you were trying to get me to catch you.” 

The half-orc smiled, soft and gentle. It was a smile that she saw less and less, especially now since they’ve been kicked out from Phandlin and have been on the Triboar Trail for days. 

“You can’t give me that stupid smile right now bimbo. You’ve got to get up. We can’t defeat this thing without your heavy hits.”

His eyes turned glassy, and she panicked, the smile disappearing rapidly as his breaths became uneven and slow. She tried to cover the wound with her hands, applying pressure, but it was futile. He was too far gone. 

“No! You can’t die now, not when we’ve got all these things we need to do! This quest we’ve been sent on can’t be completed by a newbie human and an asshole half-elf! You are not leaving me alone with him!” There was no response from Snog, who was getting colder by the second. She grumbled, and cradled his head, sitting him up on one of the nearest trees. “And, and... and Borba needs you! Do you think she can survive without you?! After everything you’ve done for her? She’s been groomed to depend on you, and Celestian knows I can’t care for animals!” 

Vera was crying, silent tears streaming down her face, messing with the blood and dirt caked to her face. Snog wasn’t breathing anymore, and there was no point in trying to get him to a cleric. The smile was gone, and his eyes were clouded, no longer their usual brown. He was slumped against the tree, limp and heavy, blood pooling around his body from open wounds. Vera stood, wiping the tears from her face, closing his eyes, and hoped that he would be granted passage to the Upper Planes. She knew he would. The half-elf turned away from the body and faced the monster, who had been engaged with Gordon during all of this. Taking a breath, she stormed toward the creature, finishing it off just as Gordon hit its eye with another magical blast. The thing fell to the ground, blood slipping like jelly from wounds, and the two walked over to Snog. As they stood looking down at him, Vera clenched her fists. 

“You know, he wouldn’t have died if you hadn’t fled the scene like a coward,” she spat, contempt rising in her belly. 

“I didn't flee the scene Vera,” Gordon responded, staring off to the left of the body, not bothering to look her in the eyes. 

“Oh but you did,” she continued, fingernails digging into her palm. 

“I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” 

“No, I didn’t. If you knew more about magic you’d understand,” he said nonchalantly, as if this was something that happened every day. 

“I don't need to understand magic to know that what you did killed him.”

A silence. “I didn't kill him.”

“But your actions did.” The ball of anger and contempt for the human beside her began to grow bigger in her belly, rising to her chest. “You  _ knew  _ just how squishy he was, you  _ saw  _ the bruises and the fatigue. I  _ know  _ you did.”

“It was a rational decision to retreat once it got too difficult for me.” Gordon shrugged his shoulders, digging his hands into his pockets. 

“That’s not how adventuring with a party works Gordon. You’re not just looking out for yourself anymore. You’re looking out for multiple people, making sure they don't  _ die _ .” Vera gestured to Snog’s body in front of them. 

Another silence. “Well, I’m sorry that I don't know how things work.” Gordon backed away, raising his hands in defeat.

Vera chuckled darkly. “That makes sense.”

“What?”

She looked over at him with a look of disbelief. “I mean, come on! You ran headfirst into the field, and you didn't even care when we told you to wait for us! That triggered the monster to come out and attack us! That’s what made everything happen; you.”

Gordon waited before responding, much more quietly this time. “I was curious.”

“Ever heard that curiosity killed the cat,” Vera sneered. 

Gordon just stared at her. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does. You’re just too stupid to understand it,  _ coward _ ”

There was a tense silence for a moment. Both half-elf and human challenged each other, a silent stare into eyes to see who would back off first. Neither moved. 

Gordon was the first to speak up. “I don't think it was my fault you know.”

“How’d you figure, asshole ,” Vera growled.

Gordon sighed, his hands on his hips. “I honestly think that what you’re doing is all because I’m the newbie.” She stared at him, and he continued. “I get it, you and Snog knew each other for a month or so before you met me. But that doesn’t give you an excuse to pin everything on me just because I was right next to him and you need someone to blame other than yourself! You barely knew the guy, stop pretending he was your lifelong friend.”

She stood staring at him for a moment, his words hitting closer than they should. “It definitely wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“Then explain to me why you didn’t jump out in front of him to take the blow when I was backing away. I  _ know  _ for a fact you had the blood to spare,” Gordon demanded. 

“I didn't react in time.” 

“Sure,” he responded cooly, moving away from Vera entirely. “Just know that someday, you will come to understand that some of this was your fault too. Come tell me when that happens.”

Vera stared at Gordon as he walked off, anger rising in her so fast that she barely had time to control herself before she was punching a tree. Her knuckles bled from the hard bark, but she didn’t feel a thing. Her whole body was numb to feeling, emotional or physical it seemed. She moved over to Snog’s body, and with a broadsword, dug a hole near a patch of wildflowers. She looted his body for any important things he might’ve had on him, just so that grave robbers didn't find anything of interest, and finally, buried him in the earth. It probably wasn’t the best burial, but it was all that she could do in their limited amount of time. As they were leaving, Vera made a mental note to come back and visit him once this was all over, maybe get an actual gravestone instead of the pile of dirt she used as a marker. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She didn’t actually mean for the dagger to fly out of her hand. It was a knee-jerk-reaction, her mind rationalized. Anyone would do that if they were keeping guard. Play it off, nod, and get the dagger out of the bush."
> 
> \---------------  
> the now-pair move on from the battle, Vera grieves in her own asshole-y way, and Hazel joins the party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //TW
> 
> Descriptions of PTSD, you've been warned

Days later, in the early morning, Vera is jostled from a nights rest by a vivid nightmare. As she sits up, the image of Snog falling to the ground, tears welling up in his eyes, blood gushing from his open wound and pooling around him fills her senses. It’s all she can hear, all she can see, all she can think about. She still feels the blood on her hands, under her fingernails, dried to her skin. It doesn’t feel right, especially when she could’ve done something to prevent all of it. She curls up into a ball, pushing her hands to where she can’t see them, fingers digging into her calf muscles as she tries to tether herself to reality. She sits in silence, fat tears sliding down, hyperventilating, and Vera can’t stop the painful memories of that day from flooding her mind. It drowns her, like she’s swimming in an ocean with no way of knowing which way is up, with no light to guide her, just hoping that she breaches the surface. But this ocean is dark, and she ran out of breath ages ago.

The sun has barely risen over the treeline when she can finally look up at the sky. It’s a bright and dark blue mixed all together, with faints hints of yellow and orange peeking out from the bottom. It’s a sunrise he would’ve loved, she thinks. Vera looks down at her hands, and although they are somewhat clean, she still has that lingering filthy feeling. Like the blood is still there, even though it isn’t. She clenches her fists, grabs a dagger, and heads to the nearest river to wash them. As the cold river water washes over her hands as she scrubs, the feeling doesn’t go away. So Vera scrubs harder, breaking skin and hissing at the pain, but continuing anyway. Blood clouds the water until she can’t see the bottom, just a reflection of her face staring back at her. She splashes at the water, and after a minute of staring into nothingness, leaves the river.

When she returned from the forest, the sun was rising above the trees; time to get going. She kicks Gordon lightly, just enough to wake him up.

  
“Get up,” she says, already gathering her things.

  
“Why…,” he mumbles, turning over, face-down on his pillow.

  
“Because we- I always get up this early.”

  
He sits up and stares at her, trying to read her eyes, but she’s already moved onto Borba, gathering things into saddlebags and waking the wolf-dog gently.  
“Sure you do.”

Hours later, they’re still on the road, crossing into the fifth hour of travel. Vera decided to ride on Borba’s back, and Gordon trailed behind, still tired from the early wake-up call. The sun beat down on the pair, and they both find that they have to roll up pant legs or take off a layer or two to keep from overheating. Gordon is bored out of his mind, and he voices it openly, complaining that he could’ve spent another hour sleeping, or they could’ve eaten before they started. He stops every so often to wander after something interesting he thinks he’s seen, but every time, he comes trudging back without purchase. Meanwhile, Vera can’t really focus on anything; the heat molds her mind into half-formed and distant thoughts, fingers mindlessly interlocking and playing with Borba’s lead. Sometimes, she dozes off, only to wake up seconds later by a small noise somewhere. Her pointed ears twitch with every faint noise the forest makes, and soon, she finds a dagger in hand. It stays there, and she turns it over in her hands.

They break for a quick snack by a small stream, giving Borba a much-needed drink, and Gordon a chance to calm down and eat something, as he’d been begging to do since they started walking hours ago. Vera, however, doesn’t eat.

“Why aren't you eating,” Gordon asks, mouth full of jerky as he sits against a tree, looking up at the half-elf, who stands guard by the entrance of the small clearing.

  
“I’m not hungry,” she snaps, not bothering to give a thorough answer. She didn’t have time for his prying questions right now.

  
“Okay, jeez, you don't have to get all defensive about it.” He turns his head away, absentmindedly tracing patterns into the dirt.

  
“I’m not getting defensive.” Vera’s head turns to see face him, drawing his attention from the dirt.

  
“Probably woke up on the wrong side of the bedroll too,” he adds.

  
She scoffs. “I woke up fine.”

  
“Sure you did, just like I haven’t been complaining this entire time.”

  
She scowls at him, flipping him the bird and turning back to keep watch on the area around them. She hears a slight rustle in the bushes nearby, and immediately, without a second thought, throws the dagger she’s had in her hand for the past hour at the bush.

  
Gordon jumps up from his spot, backing away from the sound. “Vera! What the hell!?”

  
She turns back to look at him, seeming as shocked as he was. “What?”

  
“What’d you mean what?! You threw a dagger at a bush!”

  
Her head turned back around slowly, searching for the noise again. “I heard something.”

  
“You could’ve done something else other than throwing a knife out of nowhere!”

  
Vera scoffs. “Like what?”

  
He sighs, cracking his neck. “Well you could, and this is a long shot, like I’m not sure if this would work, but you could, instead of throwing a dagger, go inspect the bush!”

  
Gordon continues to ramble, but all she can really think about is that she didn't mean for that to happen. She didn’t actually mean for the dagger to fly out of her hand. It was a knee-jerk-reaction, her mind rationalized. Anyone would do that if they were keeping guard. Play it off, nod, and get the dagger out of the bush.

Once they finished with their break, the pair continued down the road, no one riding Borba this time. They walked side-by-side, Gordon occasionally glancing down to the dagger in her hand, flickering to her face to read her expression, and moving back to the road ahead. Eventually, they made it to the abandoned town of Thundertree. It was a desolate place; a ghost town. Moss and vines grew along the buildings, and most of the cobblestone structures had collapsed and crumbled after centuries of disuse. After exploring for a bit without finding anything worthwhile, they came across a dark-skinned human, with just as much of a scowl as Vera. She wore all dark clothing and some light armor. A rapier lay at her side, along with several daggers.

“Hey! Who’re you,” Gordon asked, subtly lighting his hand up with crackling blue magic, ready to strike if the need be.

  
“Who are you,” the woman responded, staring intensely at the two.

  
“You answer first.”

  
“Not until I know what your intentions are.” The woman pulled two daggers from her belt, holding them in an offensive manner.

  
“We’re looking for someone to replace a party member we lost,” Gordon explained bluntly. At his words, Vera whipped her head around and practically growled at him, her jaw tense and locked.

  
“We’re not looking for a replacement,” she snarled, directed at both Gordon and the woman. “We just need help for a bit, then you can go on your way.”

  
Gordon looked hesitant at Vera’s words but continued on anyway.

  
“I’m Gordon, and this one here,” he said, gesturing to the half-elf, “is Vera. Like I said we’re looking for some help, for an extended period of time.” That bit was directed to her, she knew.  
The woman sheathed her daggers and extended a hand to Gordon.

  
“Hazel.”

  
“Good to meet you, Hazel,” Gordon said, smirking slightly.

  
The hand was extended to Vera next, and instead of gripping it, she reached up to Hazel’s wrist, performing the handshake she was taught by her father. It was much more intimidating than a simple handshake, and by grabbing their wrists instead of their hands, a person could easily flip the other over if they tried anything. It held another meaning too, and human was from the part of Faerun Vera was, she’d know what it meant.

  
“You heard my name,” Hazel said, pulling away after a tense moment between the two of them.

  
Vera nodded, mimicking the intense look Hazel gave her. This woman was going to get on her nerves, she knew.

The three of them wandered the forest together, and Vera was right, Hazel did get on her nerves. The human, who was only older than her by six years, opposed her opinions constantly, and they never agreed on anything. Even when it came to picking a spot to sleep, either one had something to say about the spot the other had chosen for the night. Or, in Vera’s case, it was more the fact that she hadn’t, instead choosing to stand guard and refuse to let anyone else get up. When asked why she did it, the typical answer was, “because I can, and I want to”. It was enough to quell the questioning looks that she got, and soon, it became the usual answer for anything that she didn't do, especially when the party sat down for a meal together, and Vera didn’t eat. She’d eat sporadically throughout the day instead, chewing on a piece of jerky once every five or six hours. Her party-mates didn’t care enough about her to notice or say anything about it, so she continued to do so without issue.

She continued to have nightmares. It happened during the day now, because she almost never slept at night. She’d doze off one moment, either when they were resting in a forest clearing, or just on Borba, and wake up suddenly the next, gripping a longsword handle, or having it out entirely. The dreams were always of the same thing, every time. They became more focused as the days progressed, contrary to the first nightmares she had in the days following his death. The one thing she seemed to focus on more now was the moment he fell, and how she just barely caught him. Sometimes, she would have lucid dreams, where time would slow, and Vera could see him fall, and when she tried to move her feet to reach him, they wouldn’t budge. All she could do was sit and wait for him to just barely reach the ground before her feet could move again. It was agonizing, terrifying, and brought up all kinds of emotions that Vera wasn’t ready to unpack just yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She doesn’t notice it, but tears fall onto her shirt and she can’t get away from it all. It’s too much for her to handle, and she is beginning to sob. If this were a normal situation, she’d never let a thing like that happen, but right now, she couldn’t control anything at all. "
> 
> \---------  
> the trio and borba stop at the nearby town, Vera comes to a realization about her grief with the help of a stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end, I might add an epilogue or something later, most likely as a separate story. also, I figured out how to format things properly.

After a few days of travel along the Triboar Trail, the group ended up in a town that no one really bothered to learn the name of. It was just one of those towns that adventuring parties entered to spend a night or two, gather supplies, and be on their way. Nothing too interesting caught their attention, and Vera really hoped it would stay that way, She already had to deal with the fact that she’d have to be rooming with both Hazel  _ and  _ Gordon because those two decided that it would be better for the group to have one room between the three of them to lower costs. It made sense, but that didn’t mean that it was any less terrible. Anything that kept the group here longer would really put a damper on their quest. 

So, the party entered the tavern, not too busy, but not too empty either. Borba had been dropped off at the stables, much to the surprise of the stablehands, but Gordon paid them well, and they let it slide. Everyone wanted to sleep; it had been a long day, but Hazel had insisted on getting drinks and a meal before the night was done. It’d been a while since the two humans had eaten real food other than jerky and stale bread, so this would be a good change for a bit. Vera, of course, had eaten a few pieces of leftover rations from Borba’s saddlebags, so she was good for the night. But, as Hazel had put it:

“You look like the type of person who doesn’t resist alcohol when it's handed to you,” she’d said when they sat down at their table. “You’ve just got that look to you, even if it's coupled with something sad and pathetic.”

Vera just stared at the human, too tired to make a comment, grabbing the mug of ale as it was handed to her. 

“You should eat something before we go to bed you know,” Gordon remarked, sipping on his own pint of ale. 

“I said I was fine when we came in. I’m just going to finish up my ale and pay for a room, and that’s all. You guys can stay up and get wasted, but it’s not my problem when I find you hungover and sleeping in a water trough,” Vera said. 

As the evening continues, her two party-mates engage in an argument, yelling and shouting at each other with the confidence that their inebriance brings them. Vera just tunes it all out, already used to the bickering that goes on between the three of them. But as she sits there, nursing her drink, she can’t help but notice a man from across the floor of the tavern. He’s large and surly, reciting a tall tale to a group of teenagers. She notes that his skin is green, a weird color choice for someone that isn’t a half-orc, but interesting nonetheless. Suddenly, the man spins around, and Vera gets a full view of who she’s looking at. He’s tall, about six-foot-one, and has two prominent tusks that jut out from his lower lip. Vera freezes. Suddenly, she’s not looking at a random half-orc man; she’s staring right at Snog. His tusks are chipping and cracked in places, and the curly brown hair on his head is pulling into a tight bun at the top to keep it from falling into his eyes. His smile turns from joyous and excited, to warm and kind. He’s slimmer but still built, although it doesn’t look like he could pick someone up. 

Vera stands and walks slightly closer, and Gordon and Hazel are still too engrossed in their heated argument to notice. Grief and anger begin to rise up in her chest, an ugly combination of the two swirling into this seemingly physical ball that sits low on her diaphragm; she can’t breathe. Memories of Snog and her rise up in her mind, and his death flashes in front of her eyes, and she’s back on the battlefield, just moments after his death. She’s cradling his head, ugly tears dripping from her eyes, and she tries to wipe them away, but still, they fall, weighted and heavy. His blood pools around her knees and feet, and her hands begin to drip with blood that wasn’t there before. Everything weighs her chest further down until she starts to crumple up into a ball in the middle of the tavern floor. She doesn’t notice it, but tears fall onto her shirt and she can’t get away from it all. It’s too much for her to handle, and she is beginning to sob. If this were a normal situation, she’d never let a thing like that happen, but right now, she couldn’t control anything at all. The world is spinning and spinning, and she’s drowning in the sea of memories, the waters darkening all around her until all she can see is the red tint of blood blocking her vision. There is no light filtering from the top of this ocean, and all she can do is fall further and further until she hits the bottom and is weighed down by the memory of him. 

Suddenly, there is pressure is on her shoulder. It’s warm, and comforting, a gesture that made her remember something else entirely different from the painful memories filtering in and out of her mind. Someone is there, helping her see something up in the distance, a hand on her shoulder to guide her line of sight in the right direction. It's a friendly gesture, something that he used to do a lot whenever he saw something and she didn’t. Vera opens her eyes and peeks her head out from her arms, a position she didn’t realize she was in until now. The whole tavern has eyes in her direction, and her party-mates are staring directly at her, faces contorted in either confusion or shock. Looking around, her eyes find the half-orc man’s, looking directly into her’s and encroaching on her space. She backs away because he has the same soft brown eyes that Snog did, and it shocks her to her very core. She could see the man speaking, but it all sounds like a garbled mess to her. The waves of the ocean of painful memories are still hammering down on her, and as she tries to speak, only strangled breaths and croaks come out. The man moves closer, and she backs away, searching for the door of the tavern, and as soon as she finds it, she bolts, running straight out and heading for the nearest alley, a place for her to let it all go, where no one can see her break apart and piece herself back together again. She finds one quickly, and sits in the darkest corner, covering her eyes and breathing heavily, letting the cool night air wash over her as she tries to tether herself to reality, trying to hold back from the ocean of her mind. 

After a few minutes, or an hour, she couldn’t really tell at this point, she hears footsteps coming up from around the corner of the alleyway. Vera presses herself to the back of that corner, holding out a dagger in case of a mugger, but instead, she finds the man, who looks completely different from when she saw him last. Instead of curly brown hair tied up in the back, he’s almost bald, a fuzzy buzz cut where hair should be. He’s muscular and definitely looks like he could murder a creature with ease, and his tusks are well kept and pristine. There are scars lining his body, and tattoos cover most of his arms and parts of his neck. But his face looks almost like a direct copy of Snog. The eyes and the small smile are still there, and it takes a while for Vera to really even notice that he’s taken up a spot next to her, and is talking. 

“-alright?”

Vera doesn’t answer and scoots further away from him. Surprisingly, he doesn’t move toward her. Instead, he stays where he is, and pretends that she did answer him. 

“Figured as much.” The man scratches his head, pulling at a few of his hairs as he does so. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Vera shakes her head silently, still wary of someone coming up in her space, especially when she’s vulnerable.

“I thought as much. Still figured I’d come up to you and ask if you were okay an’ all. Really gave me a shock when you hit the floor then.”

Vera remained quiet, examining the half-orc still near her. She wondered if he would take the hint and leave her alone. 

“Well, I uh - I understand where you’re coming from if I’m allowed to say.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I lost someone as well, and it pains me a bit to see someone that looks just like them too.”

The man looked at her, and when he noticed he wasn’t going to get an answer from her, he got up from his spot, turned to walk away, when Vera made a small, involuntary noise in her throat, as if her subconscious was begging this random stranger to stay, to share what he knew, how he dealt with these feelings of regret and anger. The half-orc’s head turned, and he sat back down, a little closer than he was before. Vera moved out from her spot in the dark and sat at a friendly distance away. Enough to keep her distance and not get too close with the guy, but enough for him to understand that she was listening. 

“I had a reaction like that too, once. It was a very long time ago though, so I’m not too sure I remember what it feels like to experience that. But what I can say, is that I know how it feels to lose someone that special to you. I’ve learned that you’ve got to move along. Move away from the painful memories you have of their death, and move more towards the happy ones. I’m sure you’ve got some of those.”

Vera laughed slightly because she did in fact have memories like that.

The half-orc continued. “Even though you’ve gone through most of the stages of grief, a small part of you is still denying his death. You can still hold on to his memory, and keep him with you, but loosen your death grip just a little bit. You won’t get rid of the nightmares or the sleepless nights, but that anger and regret you feel will go away….in time.”

Vera didn't communicate much more than a nod or shake her head, but she saw that he understood her. All he was asking her to do was to listen to what he had to say; to take his advice. He spoke for a while, recounting his “tale of woe” to her, and making her laugh little by little. They ended up parting ways a few moments later, but the idea of moving along stuck with her, and she ended up walking into the central area of town, where a small tattoo parlor was just closing up for the night. Stopping the man at the doors, she asked for the earliest appointment they had, and once that was done, walked back to the tavern, where she was greeted by curious eyes by Gordon and fake smiles by Hazel. Their rooms were paid for, and the three headed up for the night. 

As the two others slowly drifted off, Vera was awake for a little while longer, staring out the small window of their inn room, the moonlight hitting her face as she thought. It’d been a while since she fell asleep purposefully, and she wasn’t sure if she really could anymore. But more importantly, she was scared. Scared that the nightmares would come back, scared that she’d have to explain to the other party members that she didn't sleep or eat because of the nightmares and images that haunted her mind. And a small part of her mind was scared of letting him go. What if she didn't remember him anymore, even after this whole experience? What would happen then? As she thought about everything, her mind shut down, and she drifted into a restless sleep, plagued by nightmares as always, but less in their intensity, because this time, she could see the light above the ocean. 

\-----------

The next morning, Vera woke up. Not jumping up and grabbing for the nearest dagger like the previous nights, but slow and gentle, like how she woke up after a relaxing nap a long time ago. She barely remembered how it felt to wake up like that, but the memory was still there, just hidden by deep ocean waters. The early sunrise hit her in the face, and she sat up, being careful not to wake her party members as she slipped out of bed, pulling on a light tunic and shoes as she made her way down the stairs. But before she left the room, she took one last look at the window, and thought to herself:  _ He’d like that sunrise.  _

There was no one at the bar, or even in the tavern, and Vera considered it fate as she rushed out the doors of the building to get where she needed to be so early in the morning. As she entered the tattoo parlor, she could see the man at the front desk, yawning and sleepy-eyed, but immediately slapping himself awake once he saw her walk through the door. He offered her a chair to sit in, and asked what she wanted in a design. After thinking for a moment, she decided. She told him she wanted a bracelet tattoo, wrapped around her right wrist, with green vines, leaves, and colorful forget-me-not flowers curling around a lance.

“Is it symbolic,” the man asked, getting his tools prepped. 

“Very,” she answered.

The process was silent, with the occasional wince in pain as the man worked around her wrist. But by the end of the two hours she’d scheduled, a tattoo adorned her wrist, intricate and beautifully done. Vera left the parlor, feeling a little bit better than she did the previous day. By the time she’d gotten back, Hazel and Gordon were down in the tavern, eating breakfast and stealing a few pieces for the journey ahead. Vera sat down with them, and, for the first time in a week, ate an entire meal. Gordon and Hazel shared a look but said nothing about it. 

The three of them left soon afterward, gathering their things and stealing a bit more food for the journey to their destination further east. Vera collected Borba, thanking the man who took care of her, and tipped him a little more than she should have on her way out. Once they left the borders of the small town, the sun just barely rising over the surrounding forest, Vera brushed over her new tattoo, holding it close to her heart, and moved along. 


End file.
